


The Forgotten Pages of 2018

by inkabelle_designs



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine, Nußknacker und Mausekönig | Nutcracker and the Mouse King - E. T. A. Hoffmann
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 17:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkabelle_designs/pseuds/inkabelle_designs
Summary: This is a compilation of short stories and scrapped rough drafts for a variety of worlds that I've worked with this year. We've got some Bendy, some Nutcracker, all the good stuff. Hope you enjoy!





	1. The Ritual

**Author's Note:**

> Description: So, unfortunately, I'm starting this with some sad news. Searching the Depths is being rebooted. I've found that I have a better way to do the story since the game released its final chapter, but because I don't want this to go to waste, here is the ritual sequence that was supposed to be several chapters away. Sammy sacrifices Bella to the Ink Demon. I had so much fun getting descriptive with this.

7-26-18

The chanting of the prophet lulled her into a partial sleep, her mind struggling to stay awake. As she lay tied to the board, she looked from under drooping eyelids at the corridor beyond. Its darkness was deep, an ocean of misery and undiscovered horrors, and yet the flickering candles still caused a reflection to show itself from the ink within it. Bella knew what she was in for, she knew that even in feeling so dreadfully numb, there would be pain. Now it was only a matter of playing the waiting game. The shepherd that she’d grown to love over the past week continued reciting his ancient tomes, words that meant nothing to those uninvolved with magic. But she knew, she knew and identified some of those words from her readings. To know was to live, but to know what was to come was about the same as death.

And thus, Sammy recited the portion that she knew all too well.

“Sheep sheep sheep, it’s time for sleep. Rest your head, it’s time for bed…”

A pause. But why? To bite his lip? To make sure the words were right? Hesitance, fear, deliciously prominent regret? Who’s to say?

“For in the morning, you may wake, for in the morning, you’ll be dead.”

With one hand, he closed his book, casting it aside to the side table, before picking up the precious hourglass that marked the end of this existence, and thus, the beginning of a new one. Removing the top, he waved his hands over the precious ink speckled with gold dust, summoning it to be raised from its container and into the air. Setting the hourglass down, he took both hands and continued to suspend the enchanted ink above his sacrifices head. It almost…hurt, to think of the fragile being before him in such a way. But no matter, he had to keep pressing on, he had to fulfill his duties. For their freedom, for their salvation, for himself, for her, for all of them.

The ink flowed in steady streams from its focal point, gently finding its way across the girl’s body, shifting its shape into runes that told an ancient tale, a tale of a treasure far beyond man’s comprehension. It felt as though she was being bid farewell with the fanfare of millions of fireflies, all with the soft kiss of butterflies. A bubbling filled her chest as the markings formed, everything turning tingly with a few jolts and pricks in between, mostly along her ribcage. The prophet continued in his speech.

“Dearest Lord, oh merciful Ink Demon, I call upon thee to add another to our cause, an ally and a sister in our time of greatest need. To feed and to heal this fallen flock, to shape slaughter into salvation in Your divine will. Please, grant us permission to unlock your door and share our humble home with one more soul. Open the ink to eyes that have not seen!”

The pentagram below lit up in a lemon-yellow glow as the ground around them shook with the intensity of an earthquake. Bella braced herself, her eyes screwed shut, her fingers rubbed raw from clenching the ropes that bound her for dear life. The very last tears she’d ever shed fell to the ground, some slightly red in hue.

And in answer to the shepherd’s plea, a screech bellowed from the depths of the dark corridor. Her eyes were forced open, wide and terrified, the pupils barely visible in the trembling, fiery irises. She could see the horror that had haunted her nightmares, the creature that all feared in this hellish landscape. The ink above her fell faster, pouring like an unending rainstorm, monsoon season condensed within the invisible walls of the pentagram. She coughed violently, her body heaving as the ink found its way down her feeble throat. It was drowning her, that was it, drowning her!

The Ink Demon lurched closer and closer, sluggish in its pace, like the entire world was in slow motion, and yet the girl couldn’t stop choking on the vile substance. Once it crossed the threshold of the ritual room, Sammy did what he had to do. With the knife Jack had procured for him, he cut his hostage loose, letting some of the blood in her wrists spill and mix with the blackened sludge. She crumpled over and shook violently, trapped within the grasp of the circle and star, her body instinctively trying to expel the ink.

That’s when He charged.

What was once a dying girl on her knees was quickly ripped in half as the demon lunged at her. Diving back into the ink below, the corpse rested like a ragdoll, smearing the edges of the ritual circle, knocking the candles away as her last breath dissipated in the air. Sammy carefully held the body in his arms, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He whispered weakly, trying not to choke on his own tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for doing this to you…”

But he knew she couldn’t hear him, she was no longer there. Graves and Jack approached him from behind, each holding a hand on his back. Graves bowed her head solemnly.

“We’ll have to let Him take it from here Sammy,” she said, “You did what you had to do. We’ll make sure it was not in vain, I promise.”  
Sammy nodded. “We’d better get that coffin ready, if the Ink is to uphold its end of the bargain.”

He picked up the lifeless body and held it in the bridal style, but the closeness of it to his chest suggested a stance of protection, as though he were cradling an infant rather than a grown woman. Jack lead them to the room where they had decided to keep her, until this nightmare was to be truly ended. No one would touch her there.

 

But as expected, all coins have two sides. Underneath the ink, the demon held the struggling soul tightly in his grasp. She screamed, kicked, did everything she could to fight back. But it was worth absolutely nothing. She KNEW this was her fate, she KNEW there was no backing out, but to be in that moment, to know and feel that she was dying, to know she would lose herself, every human instinct she had told her to cling to what she knew, to claw and fight to the bitter end. Screams turned to crying pleas, crying turned to bawling. The ink demon couldn’t help but sigh a little, a mangled sound as his grin sunk into a frown. His mouth did not move otherwise.

“yYyYoOOUuuU wwWWoOOnNN’TTt GEeetTTt OOoouuuutttttaaaa hErE…nOt YeT. TaKe iT EaSy DoLLfaCe…hAve FaiTh iN US wOuLd yA?”

The demon held her close to him, in something that could only be described in the inaccurate term of a loving embrace. Her tears fell onto his inky chest within the darkness of the Depths, her new personal limbo for the rest of eternity. He let her cry as he carried her, just another lost soul within the darkness. The ink clung to the ghostly blue form of her spirit, coating her like chocolate over a strawberry, only more drizzily and messy.

The demon carefully set her down in the fetal position, letting her rest within an inky cocoon around her shuddering soul. The last thing she saw before being cast into slumber was him wiping away the ink over his face, a grieving brown eye staring back at her in her last moments as herself.

For she was no longer Bella Ewe, no, that young lady was dead. Now, no one knew who she was. She had yet to fully exist again.


	2. Deal With It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an alternate beginning to Deal With It, a fic that I've secretly had in the works for Star-Going-Supernova. It takes place in the Inky Eyes Golden Heart AU. The premise is that Henry takes Bendy out while making a deal, but their dealer is unexpectedly a child that wants nothing more than a friend. I have another draft of this that's written in a physical notebook, but it hasn't seen the light of day yet. That's the version I'm going with, but for now it's under wraps. So enjoy the scraps!

6-28-18  
Deal With It  
Description:  
Henry isn’t used to answering the calls of pentagrams and other rituals, but when the demon in disguise feels a call from a young child, he’s afraid of things taking a turn for the worst. Luckily, he’s got a wonderful dancing demon to help him out.

Lunchtime at Joey Drew Studios was never without good company. Huddled around in Joey’s office, the studio director sat with Henry Ross and the little devil darlin’ himself. The trio sat in a semi-circle around Joey’s desk, enjoying a small New York styled cheese pizza, all the while pitching some crazy ideas to each other for the next episode of the show.   
“I’m tellin’ ya Henry, we gotta get Al’ a good role in the next reel. She’s been workin’ real hard with Susie to really get the actin’ down.”   
The grown demon gave his inky son a rub between the horns as he took another bite of his slice.   
“No need to worry about that Bendy, we’ll figure something out for her real soon. Just need to find the right plotline.”   
“Ooh, ooh! I’ve got it!” Joey bounced up and down in his seatt excitedly, his cat like eyes gleaming as though he’d just gotten a treat. “Why don’t we do one of those princess stories, like a classic Grim Brothers tale?”   
“Oooh, macabre, I like the way you think!” The smaller demon hopped up on his chair, flashing his signature grin. He rubbed his head a little, as though to scratch in between his horns. “But it can’t be one of ‘hem girly damsel in distress stories. Alice is way better than that. Nah, it’s gotta be somethin’ classy, something dramatic, a real showstopper!”


	3. Carol's Journey Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a sequence for my friend Margin's RP blog (samsamthebandman) that was meant to convey what one of my player characters, Carol, was doing outside the studio. It ultimately was never finished and wasn't necessary, but it was good practice.

10-9-18

Exiting the studio and embracing the cool night air was a much-welcomed sensation for Carol Willinghem on that cold November night. She wiped her brow, relieved to see that there was no ink running from her head, or anywhere else for that matter. And so with a spring in her step, she set off to find the midnight train and make her way to her nan’s.   
Thinking back on it, Carol couldn’t quite recall why she ended up at Joey Drew’s to begin with. Being in such a hellish landscape for so long had left her memories a tad warped. As she sat on the train, cheek pressed upon the glass, she tried to remember how it had gotten so bad so quickly.   
It all started with a young man fleeing through the busy streets of NYC. He was a mess, a tangled black mane with a horribly malformed club foot and crutch. And while she hadn’t been certain at first, she later learned of his lazy eye too. The teenager rushed across the roads, feet and metal clanging against the pavement as he made an escape, but from what she did not know. He knocked her over, apologized as he continued to run. Carol ran after him. Why? She didn’t know. What would have compelled her? She just couldn’t say. But she did, and that’s when he hid in the door. She heard a scream as he plummeted down the drop. She opened the door but did not follow suit, noticing the danger. Instead, she found a way to safely scale the wall down to check on him. But by the time she reached the pentagram room, he was gone.  
Later she would learn that this boy was Liam Modo, a crippled child outrunning his toxic mother, making his way to freedom. But who would’ve guessed that freedom came at the price of being imprisoned? But their time in the cursed landscape of Joey Drew Studios, with all its sputtering ink and ugly abominations, wasn’t all bad. Carol had accomplished so much personally as she went through its darkened corridors. She’d made friends with many a cartoon and ink-covered human, she’d assisted Bendy in finding Henry again, she found love, and restored the humanity of the janitor Wally Franks.   
But the most amazing thing she’d accomplished, by far, had to be learning to give the gift of life. Dr. Owlbert Einstein Hoo started as a kind idea to help a poor unfortunate soul, but with the binding of their souls together, he had become so much more, a dedicated medic that brought many a recovery to their growing party of rebels. Carol was proud of her little Hooberry delight, the doc had become a good friend and a valuable asset in undoing Joey’s horrible curse upon the building.   
She sighed in her spot against the window, her breath freezing the glass. She drew in the frost with her pinkie, remembering the tiny ink demon’s face with much fondness.


	4. The Nutcracker's Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over the Summer, I was having a creative slump and had a crack idea for a fic where my nutcracker character, Auran, came to visit me in the real world in a fever dream. So this happened

8-27-18

From the Desk of Kat Alyst

The author sat at her desk, troubled by her current manuscript. Ever since she was a wee fourth grader, Katherine Alyst had been hard set on one day writing the best fantasy novel the world had ever witnessed. And even though she had set that dream aside in pursuit of more visual artforms, the desire to create something meaningful still fueled her at the core. She pounded the keys with the sweet melodies of Tchaikovsky in her earbuds, typing away and backspacing every so often to find the perfect combination of words. For years she had tried, story after story, desperate to finish but never following through. It didn’t matter how long the idea had been around, simply acting on it had never been enough. Even after spending three long years on a story about an audiokinetic superhero, she still found herself going nowhere, never content with what she produced.

Perhaps, this is why this story was so important.

This was the story of Auran Dulce, a nutcracker who had lost his confidence, along with so much of who he was, in a tragic accident with the Mouse King’s army. He thought that working to please his own ruler, King Siegfried, and his assistant, Bertle, was the way to go about mending his life, but of course, Katherine had other plans for his grand adventure. She had many friends and foes in the process of being built to cross his path, people that would help build him up and break him down, make him stronger than he knew he could me. Auran was a good child, the first the author had ever allowed to be childish. He and Marie had only existed since March, but Kat had fallen in love with them far too quickly. She held onto a small hope that this story, with all of its themes about love and family, getting back up after being beaten down, and finding courage in the darkest of hours, that this story would be her masterpiece.

She paused for a moment and looked back at her character sheet, reviewing all of her notes about Auran’s functionality. She wrote a few notes at the bottom and then continued her chapter, just having finished a witty and deceptive escape scene from the clutches of the mice.

But as she hit ‘return’ to move onto the next paragraph, she heard a rapping at the door. That was strange, she thought to herself, she hadn’t been expecting anyone other than the mailman. After all, with her family gone for the week, it was her job to make sure the cabinets for the kitchen were brought indoors. She tiredly descended the staircase and rubbed at her eyes, feeling the strain of the bright screen taking its toll. When she got to the bottom, her jaw dropped. Then again, who’s wouldn’t? It’s not every day you see your main protagonist waiting on your doorstep.

And with that, there was a crash, and the whole world faded to black.

The next thing she knew, Katherine woke up on the old brown couch in the basement, face to face with the gentle nutcracker that knelt beside her. He was just as handsome as she had imagined him, taking on the appearance she’d designed for after the blacksmith had fixed him. His silky hair was as white as snow and bordered his face like a fluffy cloud. His face was narrow and slightly angular.


	5. The Palace of Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just a meta fic that I wrote as a way of venting. Take it as you will, it's just prose at this point.

11-1-18

What does it mean to be a creator? This is a question the dreamer often asked herself. She looked at the ceiling in her Palace of Dreams, the crystalline walls giving way to the vast sky above, hundreds of stars and constellations sparkling in the chilled air of the night. She smirked, thinking back to a certain supernova of a writer, wondering if they saw the same stars from where they stood in the world. She thought to the artist that hid her masterpieces in the margins, and then to the one who’s words flowers through the clacking keys and cybernetic links. She looked at that sky for a long while, holding a brush as she connected the dots between the dying bits of light. They flickered, light slowly choking on itself as she bit her lip.   
Facing the reality of the situation before her was difficult. She stepped down from her perch, a tall, icy throne, and stepped down the smooth cut crystals that made the stairs to the next room, a deep observatory colored the blue of the ocean, all made of a stone that was reminiscent of a diamond. Everything here was frosty and crystalline, made to be perfect, symmetrical, a place you could only find in a realm of fantasy. The observatory showed many a portal, all a sky blue in their resting, but once approached, they flared to life with colors all over the spectrum.   
The deep tan and red portal gave way to viewing a young woman, looking more like a child as she was backed up against a wall, about to meet her doom at the hands of an ink covered man. The lavender one showed a wooden toy, a nutcracker, laying cold and abandoned in the snow, his pieces splintered, a small child curled up in his arms, trying to keep warm in a blizzard. A magenta realm showed a hero locked in combat, pink vibrating soundwaves struggling as she was stuck on the ground, a metal staff the only thing keeping a monster from devouring her whole on the cement streets of her hometown.   
There were so many more than just them. One had a very faint light that was still in the works, amber and lime green with the smiling faces of a young man and his co-workers, in a studio built on dreams, no idea what was in store for them. That sounded nice right about now, a dream, something to have hope in, something to look forward to. The dreamer sighed, looking at the others. So many portals that had locked their doors years ago, in her younger days when she hadn’t known as much. They were cold and stone, not at all like the pretty gems that made up the rest of her realm. But the colorful reflections that swirled off the portals, not all of them were happy right now. She noticed out on the corner a portal that had been set aside, one where a candle and a poodle lived together happily as roommates, but there was evil headed there too, in due time. Nothing could escape the conflict, not even the dreamer herself.   
She went to the middle of the room, where a chair and desk waited for her to sit. She got comfortable before pulling the desk drawers open. It was nice to have a desk to call her own, this whole space was hers, and it didn’t always have to be empty. She pulled a tiny figure from the drawer, of a tiny man with a projector for a head, and she placed it next to a magic screen on which she wrote many a tale. She smiled at the tiny projector man. The past week of having him near made her feel safe, secure, like there was a light nearby, even though he was nothing more than a figure. She looked to her narratives, so many pieces unwritten, and sighed.   
“Torture. Is it mine or is it theirs?” She asked herself, for she did not know the answer. Or perhaps, she did, but she did not like it, and as many folks do, they look for the answers they want to hear. The dreamer dug through the drawer and pulled out something new, a naked doll with no face. She ran her fingers over its molding, wondering if she would ever finally start on that project. Everything outside of the palace was such a mess, in her real home, the home where there was so much to do that never got done. No room to breathe, no room to think, and when there were thoughts, they would spiral out of control. Tears would always fall.   
Tears fell then too. She let the doll fall back in the drawer and she laid on the desk and cried. There was peace for her nowhere. Even while completely alone, in a place where she could do practically anything she wanted, she felt powerless. Scars and imprints of chains and whips became quite visible on the surface of her skin as her face was hidden in her arms, injuries from the past that never quite went away showing themselves once again. There were many lashes on her chest, right above her head, which had taken more than its fair share of the beating.


	6. Tea with a Ginger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a whim, I wanted to try some multiverse stuff, so I attempted an interaction between my character Bella Ewe and Gingie, owned by https://pipesflowforeverandever.tumblr.com/ Not sure that I got him characterized right, but I had fun with it, even if it is unfinished.

Back in her time as Bella Ewe, she hadn’t anticipated seeing Joey Drew ever again after freeing the studio from its wretched curse. But here she was, standing in a realm completely unfamiliar to her, and there he was. Or at least, she supposed this was him. The Joey she knew definitely wasn’t so...merry. This fellow was the equivalent of Halloween and Christmas fused together and personified as a human being. His eyes, how they twinkled in examining the most ordinary of things, finding magic and mystique in ever sense, every sound, scent, and sight. There he was, sitting with his tea service in a comfy chair, taking a sip of the piping hot beverage. His lips curled in delight at the taste. And that’s when he finally took notice of her, a young woman with her limbs sprawled on the floor, her cheeks as red as the polo she wore, hopping up and dusting herself off in a hurry.

“Oh dear, I am so sorry sir, I-I didn’t mean to intrude! W-where in heaven’s name am I?” 

Her cheeks only grew hotter as she felt his gaze on him. He set down his cup and chuckled as he walked over, dusting her shoulders off. “My my, worry not my dear, all is well here.” He laughed, his voice both like the tinkling of bells and the booming of a Santa Claus. “It seems you’ve found my hiding place, one of the realms between realms. So delightful to have you here. Please, take a seat, let’s have ourselves a chat.” 

He took her by the shoulders and lead her to the other chair, his creamy coattails swooshing behind him as he walked, or rather, skipped. He had such a spring in his step, it felt so unreal to watch. The young lady sat down, still slightly uncomfortable, as he offered her a cup.

“Tea?” he asked. His grin was almost as big as a cheshire, with all the sweetness of a strawberry marshmallow in his cheeks. The young lady couldn’t help but giggle.

“Yes please sir.” 

“Oh pish posh, no need for such formalities. Joey Ginger Drew, at your service milady. Though Gingie is just fine by me.” He bowed with a flourish as he took her hand and kissed it. “And who might you be my dear?” 

She grinned, her blush finally toning it down. “Isabella Ewe, but Bella is just fine.” She chuckled as he got to pouring the tea into a second teacup. “So this is a world between worlds? I shouldn’t be surprised, Leslie told me such places existed. I never expected to see one for myself though.” She shook her head at the silliness of it all. “The last thing I was expecting was another Joey Drew.” 

Gingie’s interest peaked at that, a golden eyebrow raised in fascination. “Another Drew you say? Well how many do you know?” 

“Just the one, though if you asked me on some days, I might say three.” She scratched the back of her head, slightly pink in the cheeks. “It’s a bit of a mess. I know that my existence is spread out, but I’m not aware of it all tha often, not unless I’m dreaming.” She yawned. “If I weren’t so used to magic, I might assume this was a dream too.” 

“What in our lives isn’t a dream these days?” He chuckled. “Queen Mab has her ways of playing all sorts of tricks on us, but I’ll tell you what, I’m certain we’re awake, some dreams are meant to be a reality.” He finally handed her the cup and twirled around to take his own seat. He took off his top hat and placed it on a side table, unveiling his gorgeous ginger locks, soft and mystifying like the feathers of a phoenix. “I’m certain it’s fate for our meeting here today. So tell me about yourself, who are you that you would know a Joey Drew? A daughter perhaps, niece or goddaughter of an employee?”

Bella shook her head as she finished taking a sip of tea. “Oh no, no no nothing like that, that would make today’s circumstances far more confusing.” She covered her mouth for a moment to pause, before starting up again. “It’s a bit of a long story. My relationship with Joey is a bit of a challenge to describe. He was my captor in one life and my ending in another, and yet in the current one...here I am trying to get him out of hell.” 

Gingie nearly choked on his tea. “Hell you say! Oh dear, I know not every Joey is kind, but there’s really one that deserved a fate such as that?” He looked like he was considering his own life choices. 

She nodded. “Unfortunately yes. He was responsible for one of the worst crimes that the courts of heaven and hell have ever seen…” She sighed. “And I can’t help but feel responsible for it.” 

He looked at her questioningly. “I’m not sure I believe that, you don’t strike me as the type to assist in crime. Your manners are practically angelic compared to some people I’ve met.” 

Bella can’t help but stifle her laughter at that, accidentally blowing a raspberry into her hand. Gingie looked at her rather confused. She stood up and tried to regain her composure, unable to as she laughed a little more. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be losing it-wheeze-over this. It’s just a horrible inside joke back home.” She held her stomach, her cheeks are red as apples. Finally she gets a hold of herself. “Would you believe me if I told you that you’re not too far off?” 

In one quick motion, she took off her pageboy hat and threw it up in the air. In a flurry of sparkles and flower petals, it came back down in a changed shape, a ringlet of floating cherry blossoms, suspended by nothing at all. Truly a feat of magic. Placing it back on top of her head, it gently floated above, the petals slowly rotating. 

“A-a halo?” He was dumbstruck for a moment.” 

Bella chuckled and crossed her legs as she sat back down. “Yep, how’s it feel to have tea with an angel?”


End file.
